Same Stuff. Different Results.
“Come on, you asshole wheel! Keep spinning. 17! 17!” Not the kind of person to slough off a Benjamin to a spinning wheel without at least making a scene first, Jacob teased it over the harmonious beeps and tings of slot machines.
Depending on where the flimsy white arrow was pointing when the wheel stopped, the three of us were either going to be physiologically gutted, or we were going to have our vibes elevated to dangerous levels. I did some on-the-spot calculations, and it seemed to me that the wheel was headed for a number between 14-25.
“Come on 17!” Andy told the wheel through clinched teeth.
The game was risky and quick – a perfectly seductive pair for my younger brother, Jacob. It worked like this: a player could bet any amount of money over $10 on any number between 1 and 50 and, when the wheel stopped spinning, if the arrow pointed to that number, the house paid out 20:1. If the arrow stopped on 17, Jacob would have ten thousand bones in his pocket.
Click6……Click7…………Click8………..
I’m replaying this Vegas trip on the screen in my mind as I survey the Egyptian vendor, clad in Armani, punching numbers into his calculator behind the desk at the Arabian perfumery. His store is in the bustling city center of Al Ain where I’ve been wandering, void of any particular destination, tonight. This “Arabian Oud,” as it’s called, is where my wanderlust has landed my body. But my mind has a sense of wanderlust all its own.
His spindly brown fingers click away at numbers on his calculator, and I suppose it’s the clicking and the numbers that have my mind wandering back to Vegas. He turns the face of his calculator around to show me the total cost, and I place a 500 Dirham bill on the table.
“Very good, this oil.” He says in his mangled English, as he folds the bill and places it in the drawer. “Each man who put on, he smell different. Depend on body. You and brother both put on and in one hour you both smell different. Your brother will like. Same stuff. Different results. Depend on person.”
Same stuff. Different results. His sales pitch will be ringing in my mind later.
“I hope so,” I tell him. I’ve let the Egyptian dab a bit of the oil on my wrist, and the leathery odor is still strong and not necessarily pleasant on me.
I decided on this sandal wood oil, as Jacob’s birthday gift, because I reckoned it’d be just the kind of thing he’d dig. It’s unusual, brash, and unapologetically weird – just like he is. So I’ve wandered into this store and decided to procure a couple bottles and send them to him back to the States.
The oil comes in a tiny clear container (about the size and shape of the coke-bottle chewy candies we used to buy as kids) and has yellowy viscosity to it. Arab men rub it into their wrists and, after the abrasive leather smell wears off in an hour or so, it begins to work with the body’s natural skin oils to create an exotic and personalized fragrance. It manifests itself differently on different people, according to each person’s body chemistry.
“Your brother in America,” says the Egyptian. He is same-same like you?”
“No,” I tell him. “He is very different. Not same-same.”
“Why different? How?”
Never were our differences more pronounced than in Vegas. I’d spent the day wandering about the gaudy carpeted floors with Andy, leaking out my cash $3-5 at a time. Dollar slots. Five-dollar black jack. Four-dollar beers. In my typical play-it-safe fashion, I’d managed to let a couple hundred dollars trickle out of my wallet without ever creating a buzz for myself. Steadily and safely, I’d managed to drum up a dreadfully uneventful day of losing in the world’s most exciting city. Jacob, on the other hand, whipped up a Vegas buzz as soon as he stepped foot on the ornate casino floor.
Click9…….Click10…….. I tried to charm the wheel into submission, Come on, wheel… any prime number between 14 and 18 will do, while Jacob bent out over the table and beamed his wide-mouthed smile.
And that’s what I have always admired about my younger brother. While I was born with an innate timidity, he was born hell-bent on a buzz. It’s just his nature. There’s nothing moderate about him. He used to say he was going to get a tattoo of some dice rolling out over four aces under the caption, “I’m all in.” It’s a perfect summation of his character, and oddly enough, it’s the only tattoo he’s ever talked about getting and failed to follow through with.
Whether it is practicing guitar for hours each night, growing his hair all the way down to the small of his back, or training twice a day at a gym and chizzling everything out of his diet save protein shakes and beer, Jacob never half-asses anything. He is, as his hypothetical tat says, All In.
“He is more old or you are more old?” The Egyptian vendor asks.
“He’s Younger. Almost 3 years younger.” I answer, as the vendor puts the gift in decorative boxes and carefully places them in a bag.
Even though Jacob is younger than I am, I’ve always done a good deal of looking up to him. If he could mix up his adventurous spirit and his predilection for risk taking and package it in a little bottle, I’d snatch it up for myself, no matter what the cost.
And in many ways, I think I have dabbed a bit of his personality on me, although, like the sandal wood oil, it manifests itself differently on me than it does on him.
Click11..……..Click12.…….As the wheel dawdled closer to 17, Jacob, Andy, and I chanted in unison. “Seventeen. Seventeen. Seventeen.” All three of us took our eyes off of the wheel at the same moment and glanced at each other, as if somehow we all realized simultaneously that we were having one of life’s great “moments.”
This $100 bet wasn’t the first time I’d seen Jacob do something that most people would consider careless with his money. When we were in college and playing in a band together, Jacob decided to purchase a full-sized conversion van with the money that was supposed to get him through college. Mom and Dad urged him not to buy it. The purchase was, according to them, a stupid idea. An irresponsible acquisition. The kind of thing one does when one lacks mental fortitude. But Jacob was driven and convicted by something inside of him.
We customized the ‘98 Ford F-350 with a skull and crossbones decal and some band stickers and began touring. As much as I enjoyed it at the time, the rock and roll lifestyle wasn’t really in my nature. I knew I probably couldn’t do it forever. But for Jacob, rock and roll was a most natural thing. It was like watching a fish in water to see him with his long hair, sleeve of tats, and a guitar in hand. The big parties and swooning girls and loud music were second nature to him. Even though I enjoyed it, I felt a bit more like a fish on a bicycle.
Our folks questioned his decisions, but opposing authority was also instinctive for him. When we were children, our mother would tell us both to make our beds every morning before school. I couldn’t understand why, but I did it anyway because I found it easier than arguing. Jacob, on the other hand, refused.
“Why?! I’m just going to mess it up again tonight!” He’d argue over the top of a book he’d be reading. Mom would inevitably threaten him with grounding, to which he’d reply, “I don’t care if you ground me, I’m not making my bed. That’s stupid. It’s a waste of time.”
As if long hair, messy beds, and ill-conceived van purchases didn’t restrict my folks’ capacity for doting on their son enough, Jacob made plenty of other decisions that showed a distinct lack of “foresight,” as our parents would say. At 18 years old, as a freshman in college, Jacob walked into a tattoo parlor and got himself inked with his first of many tattoos.
Granted, it wasn’t huge – just a script that wrapped around his wrist and said, in thick black letters, “Never ever give up.” Still, I was astonished. He was the first person I knew well to delve into the world of uncoverable tattoos. Mom and Dad grumbled their disapproval, but Jacob never retreated from confrontation with them or with anyone else. He knew what he wanted to do and he did it.
He lived on a perpetual buzz of his own creation. So I knew, 7 years and a sleeve of tattoos later, when he dialed me up and invited me to come out to Vegas, that it would be a memorable trip. Especially now that he had moved on from playing in a small band with me to touring with an internationally acclaimed band and performing in sold out arenas.
“Yo,” he said when I answered his phone call, “You’ve got to recruit Andy and get out to Vegas next month. I know you’ve got work and all, but take some days off. It’s going to be dope. Rev Theory is shooting a video for the new record and we’ve got the Exotic Suite at the top of the Palm. So how about the Showalter Bros and Andy in Las Vegas, VIP style? We’ll do some relaxing, we’ll do some partying, we’ll do some gamblin’…”
I’d seen a Travel Channel special on the very suite he was talking about the week before. The show boasted the world’s top 10 most lavish hotel rooms. Number 7 on the list was the Exotic Suite at the top of the Palm in Vegas.
“Are you serious? “ I said. “I’m all in.”
Click13………The arrow clicked closer and closer to landing on the 17 that would put ten grand in Jacob’s pocket. As the wheel dragged slowly across each number the three of us jumped up and down and yelled at it. Go Go Go!
How did my brother, who was cut from the same genes and raised by the same parents as I was, find himself playing guitar for an internationally acclaimed rock band, shooting a video in Vegas, and raging atop the Palm in a $10,000 a night suite?
I think it had something to do with his tendency to go All In. Couple that with a dab of Never Ever Give Up, and you’ve got a recipe for adventure. And that’s what I’ve been learning from him my whole life. How to go all in, and never ever give up, even when it looks like the wheel won’t land on your number. Hell, even if the wheel doesn’t land on your number, at least you did something adventurous and put yourself in a position to win big or lose big. And that’s what makes life interesting.
In fact, when I think about how safe and boring my life might have played out had Jacob not been there to model risk taking and conviction, I feel ill. If it weren't for him showing me how to stick to my guns regardless of people's advice, I can imagine myself in a collared-polo shirt eeking out an existence working a boring job in a place where I’m dreadfully comfortable. Without his influence, I never would have been able to experience all the great things I’ve experienced as a result of being a little more Jacob-like, a little more I’m All In and a little more Never Ever Give Up.
Click15…………………..The man who was running the game shot glances back and forth between the spinning wheel and the three blokes cheering it on. I started to feel unsure about the bet, though. It didn’t look as if the wheel had enough speed to get to 17. My initial enthusiasm at Jacob’s risky bet morphed into second thoughts. God, that’s a lot of money to waste on one spin of a wheel, I thought.
And back at the Perfumery, I’m starting to have second thoughts about the sandal wood oil I’ve purchased. It still smells heavy and leathery. “You’re sure this is a good one?” I ask the Egyptian, as he hands me the receipt and the bag.
“Wallah” he says. (I swear to Allah). “Same stuff, different results for different peoples. Maybe smell funny now but good later. Maybe it smell good on brother and not same as you.”
Same stuff. Different results.
I think about how all of my life I’ve been taking cues from Jacob and trying out his approach to life, even if it’s against my nature. I’ve been trying his stuff. I didn’t get the chance to play sold out arenas like he did. I will probably never let $100 ride on the spin of a wheel. But I have had a storied life, and all of the stories come from doing what Jacob would do. The results are sure different, but I’m using the same stuff.
Adopting Jacob’s unique approach to life helped me carve the life paths that I’m most proud of. I’m certain that, were it not for Jacob’s influence, I would have never moved to this part of the world and had the chance to chat up this Egyptian vendor in the first place. It took a good bit of I’m All In and Never Ever Give Up for me to get to this new stage in my life.
I think about how I had to be All In and Never Ever Give Up to finish the solo record I recorded last year. I think about how I had to be All In and Never Ever Give Up to become the kind of English teacher I am now. I think about the last trick I stuck on my wakeboard, and how much commitment and tenacity that took. The list goes on.
Same stuff. Different results.
“Your brother will love it the oil, Wallah. No disappointed.”
I smile, thank the man for his help, and walk out of the store carrying a bag and thinking about my brother and about how nothing I could buy him would ever pay him back for what I’ve learned from him. By the time I get to my car, the oil smells great on me. A sweet, interesting smell - it’s worked with my natural body chemistry to create a scent, almost like honey, that is uniquely mine.
Back in Vegas, the three of us leaned out over the table and gazed at the wheel. Keep! Going! Wheel! Come ON! 17! But it didn’t. The wheel stopped on 15 – just two numbers shy of a huge payout. I watched the man behind the counter scrape Jacob’s hundred-dollar bill into a sealed box. I sneered at it while my stomach descended into my legs.
Jacob's smile barely budged. "You've gotta play big to win big, eh? Now, who wants a drink?"
And he was right. It didn't matter that he'd lost. What mattered was that he took a risk and had an adventure (even if the duration of the adventure was just the time it took for a wheel to rotate a few times). What mattered was that now the three of us had a great story. What mattered was that he put himself into a position to win big or lose big, and that’s where life smells the sweetest.
Sandalwood oil smells differently on each person, but inevitably it makes each person smell better. And that’s what Jacob’s approach to life does. It mingles with your unique chemistry and brings out the best in you. It keeps life smelling sweet and interesting.
It doesn’t come in a bottle, but that risk taking, adventurous, all-in approach to life is good stuff, so long as you Never Ever Give Up. Sure, I became a teacher and an acoustic guitarist instead of getting covered in tats and living like a rock star. Yes, I am still slightly cautious with money, and I will probably never throw down a hundred dollars on the spin of a wheel. I’ll never buy a van with my college funds, and I’ll be damned if I don’t still make my bed every morning.
But because I've mirrored Jacob’s enthusiasm, conviction, and riskiness, I've had some great adventures and seen success in the things that I do – and that's something my innate timidity would have kept from me.
Same stuff. Different results.
